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dustlessThe Castle has variation in everything.
Most of the halls have floors of stone, but not all. Some have an unspecified sort of tile, shining and smooth.
There’s one set of four, arranged in a perfect square. They just finished breakfast when the castle decides to let them out into those hallways instead of the ones they’d come from when they’d stepped into the kitchen a little while before.
“The floor’s really shiny,” Chara comments. “I bet someone put a lot of work into washing it.” Frisk is a bit quiet, and doesn’t seem to mind Chara talking, so they’ve gotten into the habit of making little observations about the castle. They slip their hand out of Frisk’s and kneel down to brush their fingertips against the floor.
“Castle magic? It’s...nice...to clean up after everybody’s messes.”
“Oh! It’s cold too.” They slide their fingers up and down a tile. “And sort of slippy? It’s like ice.”
Frisk kneels beside them, testing it with a matching motion. ”Yeah, it is. Better than the stuff outside on the ground, though,” they add. They do like dressing up in different clothes, but they’re not quite as fond of having to dress up in so many layers at once and then have to wriggle out of it all to rest by the fireplaces. Besides, most of the ice outside’s covered in snow and slippy in a way that can be unpleasantly unexpected.
Chara turns their head to the side, giving Frisk a considering look. “I bet if I took my shoes off and ran really fast… I bet I could slide further than you.”
Frisk tilts their head back, pulling an overlong sleeve down over their palm and running their hand over it again. It moves smoothly.
They look back at Chara, grin slowly spreading over their face and an extra flood of warmth growing in their chest. ”You really think so?” They balance themselves on their hands and shoot their legs forward so they’re sitting rather than kneeling. ”We’re only gonna know ‘f we try it, right?” they go on, unlacing their shoes.
Chara chirps out an enthusiastic “Yeah!” and flops back onto the floor to join Frisk in wrestling off their shoes.
That’s precisely what anyone that happens to stumble across that square of halls will find--a pair of children racing sliding laps around the whole thing, giggling and calling encouragement and maybe some silly taunts to each other.
And Chara’s usually winning.
Most of the halls have floors of stone, but not all. Some have an unspecified sort of tile, shining and smooth.
There’s one set of four, arranged in a perfect square. They just finished breakfast when the castle decides to let them out into those hallways instead of the ones they’d come from when they’d stepped into the kitchen a little while before.
“The floor’s really shiny,” Chara comments. “I bet someone put a lot of work into washing it.” Frisk is a bit quiet, and doesn’t seem to mind Chara talking, so they’ve gotten into the habit of making little observations about the castle. They slip their hand out of Frisk’s and kneel down to brush their fingertips against the floor.
“Castle magic? It’s...nice...to clean up after everybody’s messes.”
“Oh! It’s cold too.” They slide their fingers up and down a tile. “And sort of slippy? It’s like ice.”
Frisk kneels beside them, testing it with a matching motion. ”Yeah, it is. Better than the stuff outside on the ground, though,” they add. They do like dressing up in different clothes, but they’re not quite as fond of having to dress up in so many layers at once and then have to wriggle out of it all to rest by the fireplaces. Besides, most of the ice outside’s covered in snow and slippy in a way that can be unpleasantly unexpected.
Chara turns their head to the side, giving Frisk a considering look. “I bet if I took my shoes off and ran really fast… I bet I could slide further than you.”
Frisk tilts their head back, pulling an overlong sleeve down over their palm and running their hand over it again. It moves smoothly.
They look back at Chara, grin slowly spreading over their face and an extra flood of warmth growing in their chest. ”You really think so?” They balance themselves on their hands and shoot their legs forward so they’re sitting rather than kneeling. ”We’re only gonna know ‘f we try it, right?” they go on, unlacing their shoes.
Chara chirps out an enthusiastic “Yeah!” and flops back onto the floor to join Frisk in wrestling off their shoes.
That’s precisely what anyone that happens to stumble across that square of halls will find--a pair of children racing sliding laps around the whole thing, giggling and calling encouragement and maybe some silly taunts to each other.
And Chara’s usually winning.